Friend or Foe
by harleyquinn1
Summary: R for language and may turn NC-17 later Undertaker stalks a simple tattoo artist, should she be afraid or elated... Please review.


I heard footsteps behind me I swear I did. I stopped walking, the footstep stopped. Probably just an echo or something. Jesus Josephine, get a grip. I walked into the underground garage. It was almost empty except for 4 or 5 cars. I let out a huge yawn. Tattooing isn't as cushy a job as people would like to believe it is. I was the only one in the garage from the looks of it. I felt sorry for the owners of the other cars who were probably still working their asses off. That's what you get for living in the city that never sleeps.  
  
I heard another sound and whipped around, nothing. It was 50 feet to my car and I power walked the whole way. The steps behind me stayed at the same speed. So much for the echo defense. Okay Josie, how are you going to bullshit your way out of this one? I finally got to my car, home base. The footsteps kept coming. Okay girl, flee or fight. You took that self defense class. Okay, uhh, flee! I pulled my keys from my pocket and fumbled for the right one.  
  
"Stop." The voice behind me growled. Yeah, right. Then I'm going to tap dance and sing Yankee Doodle Dandy. I don't think so! I unfroze and wondered how close the owner of the voice was. It was so hard to tell in the enclosed area we were in. Ah ha! Finally the right key. Now, If I could only stop my hands from shaking so I can get it into the damn lock.  
  
"I said stop." Oh crap. The voice had come from right behind me. I let go of my keys and they hung limply in the lock. I was so close to getting away. I turned around slowly and the first thing I thought was, "Does this thing have a head?" All I could see before me was a broad chest. I looked up and swore he must have been 7 feet tall! I looked this creature up and down. He was totally clothed in black. Tight black jeans, black work shirt with the sleeves ripped off, exposing muscular arms that were completely covered in tattoos, he wore dark glasses and had dark red hair tied back in a tight ponytail. He was immense. I didn't stand a chance. Or did I?  
  
"What is it you want?" I croaked.  
  
"I need something from you." Oh great, another New York lunatic. I asked again "What do you want from me?"  
  
"You will find out when I tell you." How was he so calm? My heart was going a million miles and hour and he was acting like we were old friends! There was something about him though. What was it?  
  
My mind was racing, what do I do?  
  
"Come with me." He seemed to answer.  
  
"What if I don't want to?"  
  
"Then I will have to force you." Fantastic. Well, here goes nothing. I looked him right in the eye and gave him the best smile I could. I will never forget the perplexed look on his face right before I brought my knee up and hit him directly in the crotch. He fell to his knees and I punched him in the head. I was aiming for his nose, but my fist made contact with his temple instead, which wound up hurting me more than him. I turned around and got into the car as fast as I could. I turned the key and the car started immediately. I looked at the steering wheel confused, it had never done that before. I backed out of the space and saw him getting up. I put the car into drive and was just about to make my getaway when the car stalled. "Piece of shit!" I yelled at it. I turned the key and it roared to life again. I hit the gas just as I realized the guy was standing in front of my car. I hit the brakes and it stalled again. "Yeah, note to self." I thought, "Get a new damn car!" The man headed to the passenger side door. I turned the key but it just wouldn't start. He pulled at the handle, "Ha ha buddy, locked! What are ya gonna do about th." The glass exploded inward just as the car flared to live again. I hit the gas and booked out of the garage. I looked in the rearview mirror and saw him standing there, defeated. For some sick reason I felt bad for him.  
  
I was almost halfway home when my heart started slowing down. With all the adrenaline in my body I wanted to go out and party, but the more sensible part of my brain told me I would be better off at home, behind closed and heavily locked doors. I stepped out of the elevator onto my floor. What was that noise? Just the Henderson's cat. Stupid beast. Calm down Josie, its over now he can't get you. He wasn't superman. I opened the door and flicked the lights on. I locked all six locks on the door, (hey a girls got to be careful.) And turned around. There he was, standing in the middle of my living room. "Shit." I thought. I turned to run out the door and got stuck. "Why do I need all these locks?" I hissed. I felt his hand wrap around my shoulder. Forcefully but gently at the same time. I spun around and knocked his hand away. He grabbed my arms and threw me down on the couch. As he towered over me I raised my hand to punch him in the crotch. He grabbed my arm. Damn, he knew my only defense move. What was I going to do?  
  
"I'm not going to hurt you." He said calmly.  
  
"Excuse me for not being able to believe that."  
  
"You will. Soon enough." He kneeled down in front of me and looked me straight in the eyes. "You are unhappy."  
  
"Yeah, gee. I wonder why? Let me go!"  
  
"Let me help you."  
  
"Look Stretch, I don't need your help. The only thing I need is a can of mace and the NYPD on speed dial. Get out of my house!" He just looked at me like he felt bad for me. Okay, defense plan number two. I leaned my head back and slammed him in the nose as hard as I could. He fell backwards onto the carpet holding his face. Now was the perfect time to make my getaway. If only the little birdies would stop flying around my head. Well, defense plan number two was a bust. I broke the goons nose and knocked myself goofy in the process. So much for my hard Irish head.  
  
He lifted himself off the floor. Damn, no blood. I didn't do much damage to him. But he sure looked angry now.  
  
"I had hoped I wouldn't have to do this but you leave me no choice." He picked me up off the couch easily. I fought back as best I could, landing blows that seemed to no avail.  
  
"Stop hitting me." I froze. He meant business now. "You have two choices. You will cooperate with me, or I'll knock you out. Understand." I nodded my head and managed a little squeak that he understood as a yes. "That's what I thought." I could feel the heat of his anger radiating from his body. "We are going downstairs now. If you try to scream or run away, I will be forced to hurt you. I don't want to do that okay?" I nodded my head again. This situation was going from bad to worse. "Lets get going then." He put me down and grabbed my arm. Gently, but firm enough to remind me I wasn't going anywhere. We went downstairs and onto the street. We walked over to what looked like a Harley Davidson. Custom made, expensive. He squeezed my arm just hard enough to hurt and then let go. He went into a bag latched onto the bike and handed me a helmet. "Put this on."  
  
"Are we going to ride that?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"I can't."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because I can't that's why."  
  
"I thought I made it understood that I am no longer in the mood for games. Get on the damn bike." It was too dark to completely see his face, but I could feel his anger rising.  
  
"Look, there is no way I am getting on that thing. You can do whatever you want, but I'm not getting on." I crossed my arms and tried my best to give my 'and that's the bottom line' look. He just looked at me for a few seconds, as if contemplating what to do. He then took two large steps toward me, grabbed me around the waist and plopped me down on the bike. Well, so much for that problem. He placed the helmet on my head and latched the chinstrap. My hands were shaking terribly. He took them into his hands, completely covering them, and gently squeezed.  
  
"It will be alright. It's only a short ride." I was thankful for the helmet as the tears I had been holding back all evening started streaming down my face. He placed his helmet on his head and climbed onto the bike. "Hold on to me. Tightly." Microphones in the helmet. Genius.  
  
I didn't want to but I wrapped my arms around his waist. He was so huge that my fingers barely touched each other. I could feel the strong muscles in his back and abdomen. He started the bike and I held on tighter. I heard him grunt through the microphone. "Maybe you shouldn't hold on that tight." By his voice I could tell he was smiling. Asshole.  
  
We drove off into the night. I squeezed my eyes shut and held on. I couldn't figure out which was worse, being kidnapped or riding a motorcycle. One of my worst fears. I finally gathered up my courage enough to speak.  
  
"How long are we going to be on this thing?"  
  
"About an hour." He said nonchalantly.  
  
"What? You said it would only be a short ride!"  
  
"You and I both know there would have been no way I would have gotten you on the bike if I had told you that."  
  
"Shut up." We rode in silence for a few minuets. I guess it wasn't that bad. I finally opened my eyes to look at the scenery. In any situation I might have actually enjoyed myself.  
  
"Since we still have a long way to go, why don't we get aquainted?" Great, an abductor who is into chitchat. "They call me the Undertaker. But, most people just call me Taker" A shudder went through my spine. What a name.  
  
"I suppose you already know my name."  
  
"Yes I do Josie. You prefer Josie right?"  
  
"Whatever."  
  
"You're a tattooist right? Is that a good job?" I was really getting sick now. I was being kidnapped! Small talk really wasn't on my agenda.  
  
"Look, cut the crap."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"Well, I don't know if you have noticed, but this isn't a vacation for me. You just kind of kidnapped me! I'm sorry but I'm too busy imagining the ways you are going to rape and murder me to care about nicknames. So if its all the same to you, I'd like to wallow in my own misery." He pulled the bike over to the side of the road. We were in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by trees. He got off the bike and took off his helmet. The moon was so bright it lit up everything with an eerie glow. The look on his face showed I had really struck a chord and it frightend me. I have a tendancy to speak before thinking, and this wasn't exactly the kind of person I wanted to piss off. I took my helmet off, my hair was matted to my head with sweat. He put his helmet down on the ground and stood directly in front of me. The tears from before started back up and I turned my face away from him. He kneeled down on the ground and ran his fingers through my wet hair. He placed a finger under my chin and turned my face up to look at him.  
  
"I know you must be scared. This is an odd situation but I need you to believe me when I say I won't hurt you."  
  
"How am I supposed to know that? First you stalk me in a parking garage, then you just appear in my apartment like a ghost. Then you make me ride this, this thing from here to Gibralter."  
  
"It's a Harley honey."  
  
"I don't care! " I completely lost control of my emotions. My tears came in choking sobs. I heard him sigh.  
  
"If your that frightened, I will take you home. I'm sorry to have failed you. I went about my task in the wrong way." He stood up and turned from me, his head hung low and his shoulders hunched.  
  
"What task?" I asked him. He turned to face me again, his eyes holding so much saddnes it broke my heart. He removed a bandana from his pocket and wiped my tears.  
  
"No more crying. I'll take you home."  
  
"What task?" I asked him again.  
  
"I." he faltered, "You are part of a plan."  
  
"What are you talking about? What kind of plan?"  
  
"I can't tell you. You wouldn't understand. There are things I need to show you." I lifted myself off the bike and stood on the road.  
  
"Please, I'm scared, I'm confused. You owe me! I deserve to know what this is all about." He sighed.  
  
"Have you ever felt like you don't belong? Like this is not the right time or place for you to exist?"  
  
"Everyone feels that way." I retorted.  
  
"Have you ever had dreams, that you're in another place? Where you feel truly at home. A place that is nothing like where you are now?" I crossed my arms across my body, a sudden chill running through me.  
  
"How do you know this?"  
  
"I have been searching for you for years. I know where you belong. Where we belong."  
  
"Do you expect me to understand?"  
  
"No, but I expect you to believe. I have been watching you Josephine Craven. I know you. I know you still believe in fairy tales. And white knights. I know you dream about being swept away from the torrid life in the city. I know you Josie. I know." I could see him looking right through me. Into my eyes and into my heart. He saw through the tough exterior that I had built up around myself after all the years of being hurt. I knew he knew me and that killed me. I thought of a lyric from a song, "kill the ones who matter, render blind the ones who see." He could see me, and that is what hurt the most. I could still feel his eyes on me.  
  
"Stop looking at me." I ordered.  
  
"Why?" His eyes were amazing. So much life, so much light. I could read what he felt just by looking at him. "Why are you afraid of being seen?"  
  
"Because then someone might get in."  
  
"Sweetheart, I'm already in."  
  
"I know." The tears flowed freely again. "I know." I broke down into pathetic sobs, he wrapped me in his long arms and held me to his chest.  
  
"It's alright love, your secret is safe with me. I'll keep you safe. I can be your white knight. Just let me know you. Let me take you home."  
  
"Home?" I repeated.  
  
"Yes." He said, his eyes lighting up.  
  
"Please take me home Taker." 


End file.
